


Instawhat?

by larascasse



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Crack, Expensive ending, Kevin is a loving drunk, Kimi has a crush, M/M, Tattoo Kink, motorskink fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1917078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larascasse/pseuds/larascasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimi has one thing on his mind: finding out what Kevin's tattoo looks like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instawhat?

“I didn’t know Kev had a tattoo.”

Kimi looks up from his magazine and at Seb across the table. “Tattoo?”

“Yeah, it’s on his Instagram,” Seb says.

“Instawhat?”

“Instagram. Here look,” Seb says and shows him the picture of Kevin with just a hint of ink poking out of the collar of his sweater.

“Oh, the photo-sharing website.” Kimi says and returns to his magazine.

Seb scrunches up his face as he tries to figure out what the tattoo is. “It kinda looks like an animal, a lion maybe?”

Kimi suppresses a laugh. It’s definitely not a lion, those are feathers. He should know, he spent about three hours this morning staring at that picture. Contrary to popular belief, Kimi does have Instagram and Facebook and even Twitter. It’s just easier if everyone thinks he’s ignorant about them. He can stalk in peace and doesn’t have to talk to anyone.

He watches from a distance during the race weekend, trying to catch a better glimpse, but Kevin has an annoying habit of wearing shirts that strangle his neck. It’s not until after the race that Kimi accosts Kevin on his way to his motorhome.

“Take your shirt off,” Kimi says.

Kevin frowns at him then smirks. “Take yours off first.”

Kimi does as requested, pulling his shirt off his back and tossing it over his shoulder. He expects Kevin to do the same, but all he gets is a chuckle as Kevin walks away, shaking his head and muttering something about Finns.

Plan B is enacted in Spain. Kimi pulls Dany aside before the drivers’ press conference, hands him a water bottle, and tells him what to do. He watches from his room, impatiently waiting for the youngster to do what he asked, his face so close to the TV that he’s probably losing a few points off his vision by the minute. He yells in victory when Dany _accidentally_ spills his drink all over Kevin causing him to stand up hurriedly. Kimi can make out the faintest black smudge under the damp shirt, but it’s not even enough for him to make out the size of the tattoo, let alone help him decipher what it is. If that wasn’t disappointing enough already, Fernando turns around and jokingly tucks his towel into Kevin’s collar like a bib, hiding the beautiful sight of wet shirt clinging to skin. Kimi makes a mental note to have a talk with Fernando about interfering in his affairs, and about where to get those towels.

Post-race Monaco is a great opportunity for Plan C. Jenson inadvertently helps out, getting a few drinks into Kevin before Kimi even arrives to join them, Nico at his side. After a few hints and nudges, Jenson and Nico finally make themselves scarce and Kimi gets some alone time with Kevin.

“Take your shirt off,” he asks again, deciding Plan A might be worth another try, but when Kevin laughs and carries on their conversation, Kimi decides to continue with Plan C and orders a round of shots. Then another. And another. And a couple more just to make sure.

“Can I see your tattoo?” he asks after letting yet another mouthful of liquid burn down his throat.

“I like tattoos,” Kevin answers with a glowing smile.

Kimi orders another round before returning his attention to his drinking partner. “Can I see yours?”

“You…nice ones,” Kevin slurs while he walks his fingers slowly up Kimi’s forearm.

Kimi shivers at the touch. “Thanks,” he says dryly after taking a deep breath to regain his composure. He then lifts Kevin’s chin with his fingers so he can look at him and make him focus. “Your tattoo, I want to see it.”

Kevin blinks slowly at him and licks his bottom lip. “You have really pretty eyes.”

Kimi lets go of Kevin and throws back another shot, anything to drown the urges bubbling inside him and to restrain himself from tearing the shirt off Kevin’s back. “I would really like to see your tattoo,” Kimi tries again, feeling like a broken record.

Kevin leans towards him, almost falling off his seat in the process, and whispers in his ear. “I would really like to kiss you.” Kimi considers the idea. He’s thought about kissing Kevin on more occasions than he’ll ever admit – it’s pathetic, having such a school boy crush at his age - but this isn’t how he wants things to be, so he pushes Kevin back and straightens him on his chair.

“You’re completely wasted, aren’t you?” he asks out loud, more to himself than to Kevin, who is off his seat again, arms around Kimi’s neck in the middle of some kissing attempt. A very poor attempt, since Kevin is practically swallowing Kimi’s ear. So much for Plan C, Kimi thinks as he looks around the room for someone to take Kevin back to his own room safely.

Plan D - this is getting ridiculous, really - is formulated during Kimi’s flight to Montreal. He doesn’t waste time. As soon as he arrives in the paddock, he strides towards the McLaren garage, grabbing one of the nearby buckets of water on his way. He spots Kevin at the back of the garage, chatting with his race engineer. He ignores the jokes about being lost or those about missing McLaren and wanting his seat back, and heads straight for the Dane, throwing - as he accidentally trips, of course - the full bucket at him when he’s close enough. Kevin gasps through the dripping water, wiping the water from his face with both hands, too shocked to say anything.

Kimi raises his head from the puddle of water on the floor to look at his work, only to hide under the bucket when he realises that the stupid fucking fireproof racesuits are also waterproof. He gets up and storms out of the garage, refusing to answer the curses and questions thrown at him. Kevin is going to be the death of him. He’s getting too old for this shit.

He almost resigned to his crush by the time the British GP weekend rolls around, not knowing how else to handle the situation. He tries to focus on racing instead, but even that proves catastrophic, 47G’s of catastrophe. He’s battered, but thankfully nothing’s broken. He walks - because he sure as hell isn’t limping - back to his hotel when the race is over. He goes straight for the bed, not bothering to take anything off apart from his shoes.

The sound of a text message wakes him up. He’s not sure how long he’s been sleeping, but the sky is already turning dark outside. He stretches his limbs and tests his joints, wincing at the pain. He grabs his phone and pulls up the message. It’s from Kevin, and has a picture attached. Kimi rubs his eyes to make sure he’s seeing right, because in the picture, the top buttons of Kevin’s shirt are undone. So undone that Kimi can see the beginning of the mysterious tattoo. There’s a message with the picture too. _Get better and I’ll show you the rest_.

Much to Ferrari’s surprise, Kimi doesn’t complain or argue when they tell him to rest and that Jules will be driving during testing.

He’s enjoying his time off at home, keeping his weight off his ankle and doing all the things everyone - from his physio to doctors and even his mom and Felipe - told him to do to get better. A knock on the door disturbs his peace and while he’s tempted to ignore it, he did order pizza a while back and it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.

“You’re not pizza,” Kimi says flatly when he answers the door and comes face to face with Kevin, hands behind his back and a smile on his face.

Kevin looks at him questioningly, then smiles again. “No. Can I come in?” he says, one hand working open his shirt buttons.

Kimi steps backwards and lets him in, eyes following Kevin’s nimble fingers, vaguely aware of the closing gap between them.

“Sorry for showing up here, I didn’t want to do this at a hotel,” Kevin says, his breath warm against Kimi’s lips.

Kimi is torn between looking up at the blue eyes or continuing to watch the tattoo appear. Kevin doesn’t give him a choice though, kissing him with a confidence he wish he’d had. He forgets everything then, forgets the stinging pain from the accident, the persistent urge to uncover Kev’s tattoo, and even the poor pizza guy standing in his doorway pretending to look busy to cover his unease. Just as he pulls Kevin closer towards him, deepening the kiss, there’s a gush of water over his head, drenching his hair and most of his shirt. He steps back, eyes wide, and there’s Kevin sipping innocently on a - now mostly empty - water bottle.

Kimi is about to ask what the hell is wrong with him, but Kevin, seeing his expression, answers first. “That’s for the bucket. We’re even now.”

“I don’t know what you’re tal-” Kimi begins, but Kevin’s lips are on his again, stopping him mid-sentence, and well, Kimi can work with being even. The kiss lingers and it’s much better than anything Kimi had imagined. He pulls at Kevin’s shirt, his fingers skating over the raised ink, while Kevin undoes his belt.

“I’ll...uhm…I’ll just leave the pizza here then?” the delivery man asks, not waiting for an answer.

Kevin reaches in Kimi’s pockets and finds a few bills that he tosses towards the door. “Keep the change,” he says in between kisses.

  
The pizza guy picks up the bank notes and hurries back to his car. As awkward as that was, he just made 300 Euros for one pizza.

**Author's Note:**

> J - as always, thank you.


End file.
